


Oops, or How I Outed Myself and Timmy While Drunk-Broadcasting My Dick to Seven Million People

by Find_Me_Calling_You



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Accidental Relationship Reveal, Armie bashing, Armie really just wants his Timmy, Dick Pics, Divorce, Drinking, Established Relationship, Graphic Description, Homophobic Language, I love Armie, Instagram, M/M, Nick is a saint, Racial/Ethnic slurs, Slut Shaming, Threats of Violence, but only by the bad guys!, drunk posting, drunk tweeting, no good decisions ever came from vodka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22983883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Find_Me_Calling_You/pseuds/Find_Me_Calling_You
Summary: It's fucking cold in New York.  And Timmy's all the way in London so on cold nights when his shoulder aches and there's no one to talk to, he just wants to cuddle with the man he loves so much.  The man he'll get to talk about publicly *so soon*!  As soon as his divorce is announced.Then, vodka and Instagram happen.
Relationships: Ferdinando Cito Filomarino/Luca Guadagnino, Past Armie Hammer/Elizabeth Chambers, Past Nick Delli Santi/OMC, Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 126
Kudos: 178





	1. What did you do?

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that jumped into my head the other day. It is just a starting point. I have some things I want to write into this story, but I have no idea where to go with this. So I can't promise exactly when updates will arrive. -__-
> 
> Hope you enjoy what I've managed to throw together so far.

Timmy groaned, hiding under his pillow. He’d stayed up late with the cast after a great show and there was no matinee today so he could finally catch up on sleep. But his phone would not stop going off. His hopes of ignoring it were dashed when either a text chime or the consistent buzzing of a phone call assaulted his senses constantly. He wanted to toss it across the room, but when he thought about the possibility that maybe someone he loved needed him, he was quick to grab it off his nightstand. One of Pauline’s silly faces, his contact picture for her, was on the screen and he answered.

“Hel--”

“Oh thank God! Timmy! Please tell me you haven’t seen it yet.” Pauline was near hysterical. “I promise I’m almost to London but if I could be there any faster, I would.” Pauline was rambling, out of control and Timmy was instantly worried.

“What the fuck is going on?” His voice shook. Pauline let things that would shock most people to their core roll of her shoulders like nothing at all. His breathing came in faster pants, panic and dread setting in. “What is--”

“Okay, okay.” A deep breath. “Okay, Timmy, I want you to do something for me.  _ Promise me _ .”

“I promise but--”

“No buts!” She practically shrieked, muttered a string of French curses under her breath.

“Pauli--”

“ _ Timmy!”  _ Pauline sounded ready to cry and Timmy’s hands were shaking, fingers struggling to hold his phone.

“Are Mom and Dad okay? Please--”

“ _ Yes _ . Of course, Timmy, nobody is hurt, no one is sick.” Her voice was calmer as she soothed him but quickly ramped back up to her previous intensity, “Just promise me, whatever you do. After this phone call, put your phone down and do not, I repeat do not, pick it back up. Stay the fuck away from the media. No TV.  _ Rien _ . Go take one of your xanax and a fucking shower.  _ Promise me!” _

Now Timmy was very confused as well as panicked. What the fuck was going on?

“Promise me!” Pauline yelled.

“I promise, I promise!” Timmy managed a deep breath.

“Thank you.” Pauline breathed out a sigh. “I’ll be there in like 20 minutes, just please, do as I ask.” She sounded deeply shaken and Timmy didn’t want to put any pressure on her so he swallowed.

“I promise.”

“Thank you Timmy. And remember I love you so much, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can.” And the line went dead. Timmy closed his eyes, clicking the lock screen button before setting his phone face down on the bed. It continued to beep and buzz with incoming texts but Timmy clasped his hands together, tuning the tones out to focus on his breathing.

Xanax. Xanax was good. And a shower, yeah, those things could last him till Pauline got here. If it was bad enough to shake her so deeply, he had no doubt he needed his big sister to process whatever was coming his way.

Fighting the rise of bile in his throat, he dry swallowed a xanax and made his way to the bathroom, stepping under the hot steam and focusing on the burn of the just-too-hot water on his fair skin. He needed the sensation, the distraction as dread continued to coil and twist and grow in his stomach.

***

“Give me your fucking phone, _Jesus_ , Armie!” Strong fingers plucked his phone from his hand, smashing Armie’s thumb to the unlock button. Whoever was shouting needed to lower their voice. It sounded so much like Nick but Nick was in LA. Just when he began to open his sleep crusted eyes, the curtains were flung open, making Armie moan and hide under the covers, his eyes aching, head throbbing at the intrusion of the bright midday sun.

How much had he had to drink last night? He heard a heavy sigh and a grumble, a few Italian swear words, then stomping feet and distant clanging in the kitchen.

“Wakey, wakey, assshole!” Nick had returned, banging two pot lids together and it made Armie want to cry, the way the sounds echoed in his skull. When he rolled further into the sheets to escape the sound, strong fingers gripped the fabric. “Get the fuck up!” A rage he’d never heard before in Nick’s voice as the covers were ripped away. Nick’s scowl was dark, the kind that meant one of those very thorough Italian scoldings was coming his way. He just didn’t expect one from Nick.

“What is wrong with you?” Armie grumbled, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, then, oh God. His cock was practically crusted to his pubes with dried come, pajama pants tangled around his ankles.

“Me?” Nick looked at him incredulously. “No, I want to know what was going through your brain last night because I could fucking strangle you right now. Get. Up. And  _ per l'amor di Dio _ , put some pants on.” Nick turned on his heel, grabbing the pot lids from the floor, swearing and cursing in at least two languages--Armie definitely heard Italian and French around of smatter of emphasizingly placed “FUCK”--as he left the bedroom.

Nick had taken Armie’s phone with him so he had no idea what he did last night to warrant Nick coming to New York to yell at him. He didn’t remember most of last night, but it had been so cold after the show, and his back hurt, and his old pectoral injury just aches when it was the bitter part of winter. He just wanted to curl up with Timmy and snuggle until the cold left his aching body, and since he knew he couldn’t have Timmy right now, he’d drowned himself in vodka.

A lot of vodka judging by the empty fifth rolled across the floor near the door. A half empty bottle sat proudly, cap disappeared to who knows where on his nightstand.

Rubbing his face again, he was somewhat acclimated to the light now. How late did he sleep?

Fumbling his way out of bed, he discarded his dirty pajama pants and made his way to the bathroom, reluctantly and uncomfortably peeling his dick out of the sticky mess in his pubes to take a piss before finding fresher pajama pants. As he exited the bathroom, the bottle of vodka on the nightstand was gone and Armie swallowed hard.

Carefully stepping out into the main room, Nick was pouring the vodka down the sink, every other bottle from his stash emptied and sitting on the counter ready to go to recycling. Nick was on the phone, speaking furious, rapid-fire French that ended with a much softer tone. 

“ _ Merci beaucoup. Prend soin de lui. Je vous aime tous les deux. Au revoir mon ami. _ ” Nick made a quick kissing sound like he was sending the affection through the phone to land on the cheek of whoever he was talking to. Call ended, he hung his head, suddenly looking weary and exhausted. And so fucking  _ sad. _

“Nick, what’s going on?” He tried to keep his voice soft, not do anything to induce Nick’s wrath because apparently whatever he had done in his drunken blackout last night had not only royally pissed Nick off, but _upset_ him.

“Ass in chair, Hammer.” Nick pointed to one of the kitchen chairs as he leaned his hip on Armie’s counter, rubbing and pinching the space between his eyes. Armie slowly sat down, watching his oldest friend carefully. He’d never seen Nick quite like this before. Leaning his butt against the edge of Armie’s counter, he rubbed his hands over his face and up into his dark hair before sighing. A deep breath and a stern, but more steady tone. “Do you remember anything from last night? Literally anything.”

Armie bit his lip at the way Nick was looking at him, disappointed, pissed, and at least a half-dozen other emotions Armie couldn’t think of the words to in his hungover state, but none of them were good.

“I remember being really cold getting home last night. My back was all tight from sleeping funny and my pec, shoulder, hurt so goddamn bad. So I took a couple Percocet…”

“And then drank your weight in vodka?” Nick looked at him with a raised eyebrow as if to ask,  _ really? Really? _

Armie blushed, feeling dumb for mixing the two when Nick put it like that, but he’d done it before. It had been a damn long time since he blacked out though. Maybe because he hadn’t eaten much yesterday, or he was just getting old?

“Okay. So nothing past Percocet, and a lot of vodka.” Nick began pacing slowly.

“I think I remember Twitter, I posted a song or something, I might have been crying…” It wasn’t information he’d normally disclose but Nick had seen him at some of his worst moments. And Armie knew he wouldn’t put up with his bullshit right now, so best stick to the truth.

“Mhmm. Handful of sad country songs about missing your true love, then some raunchy hip-hop, continuingly increasing typos. Then Visions of Gideon and a long winded confession that you were crying.” Nck supplied, watching him as Armie cringed, flushing with embarrassment.

“I think that’s when I got into the second bottle.” He tried to remember. He had snatches of fucking sobbing along to Sufjan Stevens and wailing to the empty room about how much he just wanted his Timmy.

“Is there  _ anything _ else you remember?” Nick leaned in, again raising one of those expressive brows, forcing Armie to make eye contact until he squirmed out of the intensity of his gaze. “ _Literally_ anything?”

“I think I jerked off?” Nick snorted.

“Yeah, definitely no shortage of proof on that front.” Nick shook his head and started pacing again, muttering. “Fuck. You guys were so close to doing it right, I can’t believe you’d fucking do that to him. What the hell were you thinking?” And it all dissolved into muttered Italian as Armie’s stomach dropped.

“Did I do something to Timmy?” His voice shook, fighting again the urge to throw up. Nick stopped, took in the dread on his face and softened a small fraction. "What did I do, Niki?" He felt like someone had dumped ice water down his spine. Nick sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket, clicking through and bringing up TMZ, as he sat next to Armie.

There was a warning attached. 

_ By viewing this graphic and sexually explicit content, you confirm that you are at least 18 years old. _

Nick tapped  _ agree _ as he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, tilting the phone so Armie could watch as he tapped the video in the center of the webpage, grainy like someone had captured it in a rush from an Instagram post.

“No.” His hands shook, cold sweat running down his spine, tears spilling down his face, trying to figure out if he wants to punch something, or beg Nick to hold him. “No, no, no.”

***

**Dick Pic Alert: Married** **_Call Me by Your Name_ ** **star Armie Hammer uploads a graphic video, tagging former co-star Timothée Chalamet**

And there on the screen, immortalized in the digital world was a shockingly clear close up view of him coming, moaning low as he stroked himself through his orgasm. 

_ @tchalamet Come and get it. _

  
  



	2. Blackout Drunk is never a good way to approach social media

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was supposed to clean my apartment today and this happened instead. As per usual, I'm pretty much writing this as it pops into my mind, so I still can't promise a consistent routine of updates.
> 
> Disclaimer: Fiction, fiction, fiction, nothing here is real and does not reflect on any real person.
> 
> Trigger Warning: people being an asshole to Armie. There will likely also be some foul language, slurs, and homophobic phrases thrown at the boys as we encounter more of the media.
> 
> For the record, I adore Armie. He is the sweetest, most beautiful, golden retriever of a gentle giant angel. I don't even like making the bad guys talk shit about Armie.
> 
> Brian is an asshole here. This will improve.  
> Elizabeth (who I have complicated feelings about) is a raging bitch here. This will not improve.  
> Also, Dru Hammer is a cunt.
> 
> And I love Nick. I have lots of feels about Nick. The pairing in this story definitely is and always will be Armie/Timmy but there may come a point down the road, where someone (Not A or T!) gives Nick some of the love he deserves. Armie and Timmy definitely love him in the friendship way though and this will continue.

Timmy takes a piss, brushes his teeth and picks out clean clothes for after his shower before he finally feels the Xanax start kicking in. When it does, his mind is a little quieter, a little more manageable and he feels less like he’s about to crawl out of his own buzzing skin.

Stepping into the shower, he closes his eyes, feeling the bordering-on-too-hot water beat down on his tense shoulders, his neck. He just needs to _**breathe**. Slow, steady…_

_In…two, three, four...hold. Out...two, three, four._

_In…two, three, four...hold. Out...two, three, four._

_In…two, three, four...hold. Out...two, three, four._

Focusing on his breathing and his muscles loosening under the water pressure, he opens his eyes to actually scrub before he gets entirely lost in the purpose. Pauline would be here in well less than 20 minutes now.

He towel dries quickly, fluffing his hair, not having the patience to actually tame it after the morning he’s had so far. Oversized sweatpants, cozy socks, a super soft old t-shirt of Armie’s and a cozy sweater Armie had gotten him before he left New York, and he felt a tiny bit more like himself.

His phone was still going nuts on the bed, and for the first time, Timmy did wonder if it was possible to literally blow up a phone. He was shocked it hadn’t overheated on the charger and nightstand with all of its frantic buzzing.

Immediately upon his return to the living room, he heard frantic tapping on the door. Quiet, like the person wasn’t trying to draw too much attention to anyone happening to be in the hallway, but insistent, determined to catch the resident’’s attention with great haste.

Timmy’s first instinct was to open the door, but Pauline, Armie, Will, hell, pretty much everyone had strongly warned him against that when his career really took off, so he made sure to look through the peephole.

_Shit_.

What was Brian doing here? Timmy’s gut sank as he took another deep breath to steady himself before reaching down for the knob to turn the lock. Just before his hand made contact, it wiggled, and he hesitated but only when he saw the knob turn on its own. 

Pauline. She and Armie were the only ones who had copies of his key.

Stepping back, he narrowly avoided getting hit by the door before Pauline launched herself at him.

“Oh Timmy!” She cried, throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank God, I got here just in time.” She cut her eyes viciously at Brian as he stepped in behind her, purposefully locking the door before placing a post it over the peephole. He only had a scowl and a raised eyebrow in return before making his way around the apartment, shutting the blinds and drawing the curtains tight, extinguishing the bright morning light.

“What the fuck--” Pauline cut him off again, this time with a stream of French curses and half-formed panicked phrases blending the two languages before she seemed to catch herself. Timmy watched her pull back from hugging him finally, close her eyes, a deep breath, and when she looked at him again, she seemed more like herself. On the outside, she was his fearless, indomitable big sister, but they knew each other well, and as they got older, they could read each other better. There were still so many emotions in her eyes, most of all, worry.

“What you should be cussing at is not our presence, or these precautions,” Brian began with a sniff, his expression broadcasting distaste as he dropped into one of Timmy’s armchairs. “But that ridiculous buffoon that latched onto your coattails in Italy and can’t seem to stop causing problems for you!”

“ _How dare you_!” Despite the Xanax, Timmy was immediately full of rage. Brian had never quite liked Armie, and they’d had their fair share of arguments, but this was the first time Brian had spoken his poor opinion of Armie so freely. “Armie’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” His voice shook. Brian was furious and his sister was shaking herself apart when she thought he wasn’t looking. He wished Armie was here, his presence, his strength, his complete lack of fucks to give. Whatever was going on, he’d be better if Armie were here to hold him through it.

“Infatuation makes us blind to many things, including that asshole’s ability to put both feet in his mouth without even trying, and his complete lack of censor on social media which is why we’re in this mess now. If he--”

“Timmy doesn’t know yet!” Pauline interjected, looking every bit as pissed at Brian as Timmy felt. “Don’t lay into Armie about this, Mr. ‘They shouldn’t be in the same city, what will it look like?’ It’s probably as much your fault in the first place, rather than a drunken--”

“Don’t you put this on me, little girl. If Timothee hadn’t attached himself to that complete waste of cells--”

“ _Enough_!” Timmy shouted, covering his ears and sinking to the couch. His head was pounding but he forced himself to breathe in the quiet of the room. He wanted to kick them both out, way more Brian than Pauline, but he couldn’t deal with yelling right now. Not with the way his throat was tightening and his head was pounding. Why were they being so cruel to Armie? What the fuck had happened? It felt like he could barely get air in and he only realized he was hyperventilating when Pauline dragged him to rest against her chest, a hint of her perfume with the stale air of travel wafting off her coat.

“ _Ça va. Tu es en sécurité, petit frère._ ” Pauline murmured into his hair, her fingers wrenching his arms down, away from his head until Timmy melted into her. When he dared open his eyes, Brian was standing over him, expression sour but wordlessly offering another Xanax and a glass of water.

It took Timmy a moment before he felt like he could accept them, but he eventually was able to reach out, letting Brian tip the Xanax into his waiting hand. Timmy tossed it in his mouth, and immediately grabbed the glass, draining it in one go to encourage him to focus on the simple cycle of breathing and swallowing down gulps of cool water.

“Without yelling, please.” His voice came out stronger than he was counting on. “What is going on?”

Timmy sat, pulling his legs up, criss-crossed in his lap. He could feel the cloud of fury next to him, Pauline’s death glare finally forcing Brian into the armchair and making a zip motion across his mouth. His phone appeared from his pocket and he was immediately busy scowling, eye rolling, and typing away. 

Timmy watched Pauline for another minute or two until she finally relaxed the tiniest bit, confident that she had put Brian exactly where he belonged for the moment.

“What is going on?” Timmy felt vaguely nauseated, but the sooner he knew, the sooner he could stop dreading whatever terrible thing had happened last night while he was asleep. “Did I do something dumb on my way home?” He’d been missing Armie fiercely. He distinctly remembered looking at one of Armie’s instagram stories, something about a bagel shop, and messaging his boyfriend a string of heart emojis along with a quick message. _Wish I were home with you. I love you._

“Not you.” Brian piped up, unhelpfully.

“ _Tais toi_!” Pauline positively hissed at him, rising off the couch, a fist curling against her hip before Timmy could gently tug on her arm. A shared look and she sunk back to the couch, sitting even closer to Timmy, her leg pressed firm against his and taking his hands in his. “No, little brother. It’s nothing you did. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?” Pauline waited for his slow nod before she continued. “Armie was...doing some drunk posting last night.”

“Oh God.” Timmy muttered, burying his face in his hands. Armie had next to no filter in real life, and even less of one on social media. Add copious amounts of liquor and Timmy’s not sure what good could come from that. “Did he call me his lover or something?”

“Or somethi--”

“I will fucking throw _something_ at you if you don’t shut up.” Pauline snapped at Brian. Timmy could almost swear he saw her eyes go red for a moment. When Brian had gone back to his texting with a huff, Pauline’s face calmed and she looked at Timmy again.

“He didn’t directly mention the divorce,” Timmy stiffened. Armie’s upcoming divorce had been a tight secret between their close friends and family, with the last person Timmy ever expecting to spill the beans Armie himself. “But he might have said a couple less than flattering things about his ‘ex-wife’ including stuff about botox and lip fillers being the most real thing about her.” Timmy winced. That would be disastrous on its own but it still didn’t explain why that affected Timmy.

“What else?” 

“Lots of sad country music, a couple of really graphic rap songs, an EDM remix of that Nine Inch Nails song Closer, and then Visions of Gideon and Mystery of Love.” Timmy’s stomach dropped and he swallowed hard. If Armie had gotten to stuff from _Call Me by Your Name_ , this could be bad. _Really_ bad.

Pauline continued.

“There were almost thirty tweets about how much he missed Crema, how he found the love of his life there, how he’d been fighting so hard to keep it hidden, but he was so miserable and lonely, he was just sitting up crying and listening to sad music and missing you. With lots of typos and the occasional tangent about how good it felt when you guys made love.” Pauline ended with a grimace and Timmy again dropped his face into his hands.

“I’m gonna puke.” Brian got up and wordlessly fetched a large pot from the kitchen in case Timmy really did hurl. There probably wasn’t much in his system at this point, but he was definitely feeling a little woozy. He’s not sure if it’s more the discussion matter, the Xanax, or how fucking worried he is about Armie. He’d had a gut feeling Armie couldn’t handle New York winter all alone, and it would have been so much easier on everyone at this point now, if Timmy had stayed to support him. “Anything else?” He held onto the pot like a lifeline.

“Lots.” Brian muttered and Pauline looked ready to murder again but Timmy shook his head.

“Tell me, Pauli. I need to know.” He did everything he could to keep his voice steady and Pauline looked at him sadly, nodding slowly.

“Then there were the videos he put on Instagram, just a couple little bits of _Call Me_. He posted the peach scene, said you really did taste like peaches after you did that...thing.” Timmy could feel his face flaming. “Long gif of the Bergamo kiss, and talking about how kiss was realistic because he always wants to kiss you. That he thought you were beautiful and sexy and perfect even when you kept puking one time he came to visit.” 

Timmy teared up slightly, remembering when he’d gotten a terrible stomach bug while Armie was in town for the weekend. Thinks of Armie kissing him, slow, soft, and sweet, even when Timmy knew he had to taste like vomit. Mopping his head with a cool washrag, feeding him the tiniest sips of gatorade and bites of jello to try to get something, anything into his system. Remembers Armie staying up all night when he’d swung between sweating and shivering. Recalls Armie carrying him to the bathroom when he was too weak to do it himself and or scared he wouldn’t make it in time. It had been a terrible couple of days in many ways, but he’d rarely felt more loved. Armie never left his side and even rescheduled his flight to stay one more night, just to make sure Timmy was okay.

“I need to go to him.” Timmy was shaking. Armie would never broadcast all of that if he hadn’t been just devastated by their separation and his own loneliness. And my God, the self-loathing Armie would be doing in the morning. He stood carefully. “I need to at least call him--”

“There’s a little more.” Pauline piped up. “This you might want to sit for.” Timmy sunk back down. How could this get any worse? “Despite the fact that I’m pretty sure he was three sheets to the wind at this point, he, um.” Pauline was blushing now. “He obviously had no issues with uh...whiskey dick, shall we say?” Timmy felt all the blood drain from his face. “He made a little video, I think he meant to message it to you, but…” 

Pauline was trying to find the words, and Brian had obviously hit his limit on being told to be quiet and passed Timmy the phone he’d been tapping away on to reveal a video with the caption: _@tchalamet come and get it._

Soft moans filled the room. Clearly Armie’s moans, that rich deep voice making Timmy squirm even with how dire this situation was. Armie’s hand, strong fingers, hairy wrist with a tattoo on the underside. Gorgeous golden abs leading down to a nest of caramel brown curls at the base of one very, very impressive cock that Timmy had spent more than enough time in person with, to know there was no way this wasn’t Armie. A very obviously turned on, and almost ready to come Armie, judging by the way his hand was almost frantically pumping his cock.

_“Tim…”_ A breathy gasp, a low grunt, and Timmy could see the tops of his thighs quake, the muscles leading down to his groin tightening in a ripple as Armie’s fingers went from rapid stroking, to firm, drawn out, twists, showing off his cock as thick burst of cum erupted from the tip, some shooting off screen, some of the fatter, heavier pulses streaming down Armie’s hand and covering his low belly in wet streaks. One particularly violent twitch of his cock and the camera was suddenly partially blurry. _“Shit. Fuck. Fuuuuck.”_ Armie’s voice was distinct enough that if his tattoo and the giant dick hadn’t sealed the deal, this did. _“Miss you so much, baby.”_

Then the video tilted sideways and ended.

“He put that on Instagram four hours ago.”

*

It was only by Nick’s strength and the grace of a God more forgiving than Armie ever deserved that he made it to his kitchen sink in time to vomit. A burning stream of leftover liquor and bile gagging him as his system purged itself of the foulness of last night. He misjudged a breath between heaves and nearly collapsed into the basin as the next wave not only came out his mouth but his nose, setting his sinuses ablaze as his head pounded away.

Nick firmly supported him from behind, a foot planted between Armie’s long legs, pinning Armie to the counter with his hip in case Armie started to tilt back or to either side. Steady hand running the length of Armie’s back in firm, grounding passes.

“All done?” Nick passed a box of tissues to him and Armie blew his nose, coughing one more time and spitting a mouthful of thick, sour bile into the sink.

“Yeah.” He managed to grunt, turning the tap on and cupping his shaking hands under it, bringing water to his mouth, once in a swish and spit and another to swallow down his burning throat. Settling his hands on the counter, Armie felt Nick unpin him, trusting him to stand better now that he wasn’t actively vomiting. “You don’t…” He tried a weak protest but Nick waved it away, long arms gracefully reaching around to turn the spout into the detachable spray hose, rinsing the evidence of Armie’s sickness away and down the drain. How many times has Nick done this over the years? He is quickly ashamed to realize more than he can count. “I’m sorry.” It came out a whisper. He couldn’t find his voice.

Nick again waved him away, tugging him away from the sink and guiding him to collapse onto the couch. Armie immediately puts his head in his hands and Nick’s back rubbing returns, along with slow murmurs to _breathe_ , guiding him through grounding himself.

There’s nothing for Armie to see with his head in his hands but he can feel the sweat running down his skin, the remains of his sticky mess still clotted in his pube. Feels the way the couch slowly cradles him as Nick’s hand continues its steady path up and down his back, smoothing and soothing. Hears the far off bass of a neighbor’s music, the low hum of the heat kicking on and blowing through the vent. Listens to Nick’s breathing and trying to match his own to it. The smell of the airport and underneath it, pine soap clinging to Nick. His mouth still tastes of bile.

“You with me?” Nick’s voice is low and Armie is finally able to lift his head. “I’m sorry I came in here guns blazing, I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you when you’re obviously already distressed.” Armie lets out a bitter laugh and shakes his head as aggressively as his hangover allows.

“You have every right to be pissed at me. You’re always cleaning up my messes.” Hell, Nick was practically the one raising his kids-- ”The kids--”

“Are with Tyler and Jackie. Sleepover is all they know.” Nick explains it away like it was nothing.

“Liz is…” Armie almost doesn’t want to know.

“Furious would be an understatement. I made sure the white noise machines were on loud and their doors shut when all this started.” Armie flushes with shame. “I kept her from destroying most of the house but there was a lot of screaming and crying. Throwing things, mostly wine bottles. Ripping her hair out and kicking furniture.” Nick glosses over it most of it but Armie can only imagine how bad it was if Elizabeth had thoroughly and completely lost control over herself like that.

“Ash came over and we managed to bundle her into the car. I sent them with my mom’s credit card so they could just check Elizabeth in for a week or two at that Palm Springs resort she loves so much.” Armie winces. They never leave that resort with anything less than a several thousand dollar bill just from Elizabeth’s esthetician alone.

“I’ll pay your mom--” Nick waves away his protest again.

“Don’t. Bigger fish to fry right now, hm?” Armie can only nod as Nick slips an arm around his shoulders. “I woke the kids after I cleaned up a little. Ford wasn’t happy but Harper seemed to understand. Jackie came right over and got them to Tyler’s and I got on the next flight.” Nick shrugged like it was nothing but Armie couldn’t resist curling into his oldest friend. He’d do anything to hold Timmy right now. Hold him tight and protect him from the storm that had no doubt exploded online. Leeched a little comfort from his precious Timmy who seemed to love him no matter how badly he fucked up.

He hoped Timmy would still love him after this. Why did he always have to fuck up? Why couldn’t he keep from ruining the best thing that ever happened to him?

Nick makes quiet shushing noises and wraps Armie up tight when it becomes obvious the blonde can’t keep from crying. Armie cries into the rumpled designer shirt he’s wearing for what feels like hours. His grip must be painful to Nick, the way he’s squeezing and fisting handfuls of shirt and skin when he’s wracked by a particularly violent sob. Nick never lets up, never pushes him away, just holds him until his wet sobs dissolve into lingering sniffles.

“I’m…”

“Don’t. It’s okay.” A strong hand squeezes his shoulder and Armie is for about the thousandth time this morning, grateful for his best friend’s presence.

“I’m...worried Timmy won’t love me…” Armie can barely bite the words out before his throat tightens again with a fresh wave of tears. He fiercely tries to scrub them away, but doesn’t fight when Nick pulls him close again.

“Don’t you even think about that.” Armie gets an extra tight squeeze. “The first thing he was, was really worried about you. I know both of you. He’ll always love you. You just have that kind of bond.” His voice holds no room to argue, but lacks the extra layer of gloss he has to put on when he’s being an international realtor. Armie finds a bit of comfort that Nick takes that level of confidence in his and Timmy’s relationship.

“How do you know, though?” Nick rolls his eyes and digs in his pocket. “By the way, where's my phone?”

“Not happening, Hammer.” Nick’s quick dismissal of his second question and Armie scowls. Nick has his own phone in hand now and doesn’t even look up. “Don’t give me that look. I know you.” He briefly locks the phone and stares at Armie, who shrinks back a little under the intensity in his dark eyes. “You’re going to go right to social media and have a complete meltdown over all the awful shit they’re saying.”

“But--”

“Yes, we know most of their garbage isn’t real, but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful to see.” Nick explains in measured tones and Armie deflates a little. “Not to mention if Dru and Elizabeth were mad at me, I don’t even want to know what’s in your voicemail. So I took your Twitter and Instagram down for the time being then hid your phone because if anyone desperately needs to get ahold of you, I’m sure they already know where to look.” Nick had his deal-closing voice on, but Armie couldn’t help notice the tiny tremor that went through his body when he mentioned Dru and Elizabeth.

“Did they say something to you?” Armie deserved every bit of vitriol and rage directed at him but Nick had done nothing wrong. He’d been cleaning up Armie’s messes long before Armie even realized he’d made most of them.

“Not really.” Nick shrugged it off but Armie stared at him until he forced Nick to meet his gaze. “What?”

“I just…” Armie swallowed hard. With therapy, and through his relationships with Luca and Timmy, he’s learned a lot about being honest not only with himself but others. “I already feel really fucking shitty about what I’ve put Timmy through, and I’m not sure there’s ever going to be enough I can do to repent for that.” Nick looks mildly displeased by his statement, but stays quiet. Allows Armie to talk through his feelings at his own pace. “I’ve hurt Liz terribly, but I don’t...if people are going to be mad at me, and they fucking should,” Nick makes a noise of protest but it dies as Armie pushes on. “I fucked up. They should be mad at me, not any of the people around me who just made the mistake of being around the massive fuck-up that is Armie Hammer.”

Armie can feel the self-loathing creeping up on him, unable to stop the flood of images and memories where he’s hurt people. Nick cuffs him on the back of the head to knock him back into reality, then grabs Armie’s wrist, finds a pressure point. Pushes on it until Armie’s entire focus is on that physical tie to the moment and not his own rotten thoughts.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Armie hisses out between gritted teeth and Nick releases him.

“First off, you are massive, and you fuck up, but that does not make the sum of your existence a massive fuck-up.” Nick has that look of absolute determination again, the same one he charged into Armie’s apartment with. “And I’m an adult. I can choose who I associate myself with, and whatever ‘consequences’ come with it. Dru always says dumb shit when she’s angry or upset. And I’ve been managing Liz for forever, I can deal with the temper. You’ve been my best friend literally my entire life, Armie. You taught me how to walk, for God's sake. For better or worse, I think you’re stuck with me.”

Armie is finally able to snort a laugh and tugs Nick close to him, squeezing tight.

“You’re the best, Niki Wonder.” He can sense Nick rolling his eyes before they pull apart, Nick’s attention flicking back to his phone.

“And Timmy’s okay. He’s pretty shaken up, but he’s got a good support system and he’s already ready to talk.”

“You’re sure?” Nick nods and passes over his phone.

_07:03 Pauline Chalamet (PC): Got this number from our mom; this is Pauline, Timmy’s sister. You’re Armie’s best friend, right? Are you anywhere you could get to him right now? His twitter is getting really weird and he’s talking about Timmy’s butt._

_22:07 Nick Delli Santi (ND): hey Pauline. Yeah, this is Nick, watching the trainwreck live too. Currently in LA, but boarding a flight for NYC in a couple hours. He always talks this much about Timmy’s butt, but not this publicly._

“Asshole.” Armie kicks at Nick’s ankle and Nick responds by pinching his side hard enough to make him squirm away.

_07:08 PC: Kind of didn’t need to know that._

_08:12 PC: Oh_

_08:12 PC: My_

_08:12 PC: GOD_

_08:13 PC: I did NOT need to see that much of the fucking man my brother is fucking!_

_23:20 ND: Get to Timmy, I just got Elizabeth taken care of, friend collecting kids and then I’ll deal with Armie._

_08:21 PC: Do you think I’m stupid? Of course I’m already on my way to my bro, you hurry your ass up to deal with his weirdly horny-maudlin boyfriend!_

A thumbs up emoji from Nick.

_10:13 PC: Almost to Timmy’s building, will give update later_

_09:30 ND: Just landed in NYC, how’s Tim?_

_14:35 PC: we’re both considering murdering Timmy’s agent, but mostly we’re just trying to figure out what to do. The media is bad here, I imagine in the States, it’s worse._

_09:38 ND: Definitely not pretty. The video is everywhere, the screenshots are everywhere the video isn’t. Instagram crashed a couple times before the video got taken down. Twitter is still going insane. It even got into the morning papers. GMA aired a barely censored version of the screenshot._

_14:52 PC: Got your thumb on the pulse of all this?_

_09:54 ND: someone has to_

_14:54 PC: Isn’t that what his publicist is for?_

_09:55 ND: she’s probably in Palm Springs in the MediSpa next to Liz_

_09:56 ND: Taking Armie’s phone away when I get to the apartment_

_14:56 PC: okay dad_

_09:57 ND: fuck off_

_09:57 ND: Armie’s mom has screamed at me three separate times_

_09:58 ND: I don’t even want to know what she’s tried to tell him directly_

_09:59 ND: Tell Timmy he can text me on this number if he wants to talk to Armie_

A thumbs up from Pauline and then a new cluster of messages.

_18:12 PC: hey it’s Timmy. I’m sorry Armie’s mom is being so mean to you. You’ve always been really nice and helped us a lot. And I really appreciate you taking care of Armie <3 _

_18:13 PC: when he’s ready, I’d love to hear his voice_

_18:15 PC: my agent took my phone so this is the number to call_

It’s just after 1:30, the messages were just sent within the past half hour and before he can help himself, he looks to Nick with pleading eyes.

“It’s your phone, so can I…” Nick gives him a small smile.

“I’ll order lunch while you guys talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timestamps during all the texting correspond to the SENDER'S local time. The Armie parts and Timmy parts do not line up exactly.


	3. Headlines and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys begin moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned now, there is a LOT of homophobic language in this chapter. There are a few slurs against Italians. There are threats of violence. If you don't want to read, there will be a warning and then when you can look again. All of it comes from the oh-so-lovely Dru Hammer. Lots of other characters have not very nice things to say, but Dru is by far the worst.

After sending a few quick texts to Nick, Timmy settles himself into the corner of the couch, staring at Pauline’s phone like his only lifeline. He’s been sworn to stay off the internet and for now, he’s agreed. Brian has temporary control over his twitter and Instagram accounts.

He doesn’t even really need to look at the gossip sites himself, Brian is taking great joy in reading them aloud.

“Oh, now here’s a good one, Daily Mail: _Armie Hammer: What a Wanker! (Literally!)_ ”

Timmy groans and hides his head in his knees.

TMZ had gotten all their juicy bits into the headline, but surprisingly aside from laying out the situation, had not been terrible yet. Perez Hilton however,

“ _We all see why our favorite twink Little Timmy T would be calling out clandestine lover Armie Hammer’s name! Click the Link to see his enormous--_ ”

“ _Brian_!” Timmy couldn’t keep the distressed whine out of his voice.

“Hm, here’s in Touch, _Armie shows the world exactly why he’s so ‘cocky._ ’” Brian is paying him no mind. Pauline went out to get sandwiches. Timmy was officially on lockdown until something about this situation was figured out, and Brian insisted on keeping an eye on him personally, so rather than risk a delivery person knowing his address, Pauline volunteered to get food though. How he wished his big sister was here to glare Brian into submission. 

“Ah, here’s Buzzfeed: _Armie Hammer deletes Instagram and Twitter accounts following massive nude video scandal_. And then there’s _10 Good Reasons No One Will Ever Hire Armie Hammer Again_. But I am glad the dolt at least had the good sense to not add fuel to the fire. Though I must admit, it was more likely one of his handlers.” Brian said with a displeased sniff and Timmy got up, kicking the coffee table in the process.

“ _Stop talking about him like that_!” Timmy could hear the bordering on hysterical shriek in his voice. He was shaking, his skin on fire. “Yeah, he made a fucking mistake but how the _fuck_ are you helping out now, huh?” Brian seemed stunned at his outburst, and for once, was blissfully speechless.

Which allowed the room to be quiet enough to hear Pauline’s phone buzzing where he left it on the couch.

Diving to grab it, Timmy was instantly flooded with relief at the name on the screen. 

_ Nick Delli Santi  _

He prayed it was Armie, but even if it was Nick, Nick was always kind to him. He could use some of his warmth. With shaking hands, he tapped the green button and brought the phone to his ear. It took him a moment to calm and gather his breathing, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Hello?”

“ _Baby_!” And with that one word, the stress of the day fully hit him and he was in tears, curled around the phone, grateful, terrified, and exhausted, all in equal measure. “Baby, I’m so, so fucking sorry. I fucked up so badly last night and I never meant to embarass you. God, Tim, I can’t even--” And he could hear Armie bite back a sob too.

Thankful for a small miracle, Brian left the room, but not before draping the blanket on the top of the couch over Timmy, knowing he’d need his protective cocoon.

For several minutes, all either of them could do was cry, each trying to make an attempt at conversation, apology, explanation, but just hearing the other’s voice, their very presence, no matter how far away, meant the world.

“I’m really ugly crying right now but can I switch to FaceTime?” Timmy internally begged Armie to say yes.

“God, yes, of course--” And when the icon for FaceTime popped up, Timmy couldn’t hit it fast enough. “I hope you know that even 'ugly' crying, you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Armie’s wobbly smile had a new wave of tears running down his face. “I’m...I don’t even know how to tell you how fucking sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you, or embarass you, or drag you into one of my shit storms.” 

A pack of tissues fell from the sky, pre-opened and Timmy was quick to grab one, clearing his vision, watching the tight muscles in Armie’s jaw. Taking in his splotchy complexion, reddened eyes, and wild hair.

“No, no. I shouldn’t have left you all alone when you’ve got so much going on. I knew being away from the kids while the divorce was in the works, and then me just not being there. It can get just fucking awful there in the winter. I’m so--”

“Don’t you dare apologize!” Another tear ran down Armie’s face and Timmy wished he were there to wipe it away. “I fucked up so bad. The side I had the surgery on was hurting like fuck so I took some of my old pain killers and it didn’t help, and I flubbed a couple lines last night, and I started drinking, and I honestly don’t even remember most of it. I think the gravity of my fucking up didn’t even hit me until Nick showed me the TMZ story.”

Timmy took a moment to blow his nose, curling the blanket in around himself.

“I’m glad Nick got to you so fast. Pauline just beat Brian here this morning and I think I would have lost it if I didn’t have her. Brian’s been really fucking awful and I’m so sick of it. I just want to go home and see you and hide from everything, even just for like a day or two cause I miss you so much. Pauline wouldn’t let me read the actual tweets, but from what she explained, we’re both just suffering from being so far apart at this point. I never should have taken this stupid play!” A fresh wave of tears came and he cried, wishing he were home. Wishing more than anything he was with Armie. Internet mess or no internet mess, he just wanted his fucking boyfriend.

“Baby, baby, baby. I wish I could hold you right now. I’d do anything to give you a kiss. I’m so fucking sorry. None of this is your fault. I should have been more flexible in my projects and found something in the UK, or at least Europe while you were doing your theatre run.”

“No! Then you’d see the kids even less.” Timmy shook his head fiercely. “I could have taken that part in 1776, or even a side part in something, anything, Drunk Shakespeare! Or I could have just taken a damn break. I should have--”

“No, Timmy. This is not on you. Regardless of what you wished you could have done differently, none of this is on you. Not one little bit. I’m thirty-three, I should have known better. I just wish I could be there for you now.”

“Me too.” Timmy tried a small smile and saw Armie attempt the same. “No matter what, I still love you.” 

“I don’t know why.” Armie gave a self-deprecating laugh and shook his head. “You’re still the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I wouldn’t be me without you. And I’m going to love you like mad for the rest of my life.”

“I love you for the same reason, you give me this passion, this confidence, this joy that I never had before. And I feel like I can be a better version of myself when I’ve got you by my side.” A few more tears escaped Armie’s eyes and Timmy tried a reassuring smile, but found himself interrupted by a yawn.

“Get some rest. You’re all bundled up, I’ll talk to you till you fall asleep.” Timmy smiled and settled into the couch, closing his eyes and letting Armie’s voice wash over him. “Remember the day we filmed out at Lake Garda and we went for that long walk after lunch. Nibbling on fruit, holding hands on that quiet path that led past the little house with all the crocuses. The smell of the water, the sound of the leaves in the big oak tree we found and I tugged you into the shade to kiss you so soft…”

***

Armie kept up his slow murmurs of their time in Italy, keeping his voice as soft and even as he could until he saw Timmy’s brow unfurl itself and his breathing settle into a steady pattern before he hung up the phone.

Nick was in the kitchen, talking in rapid Italian on the landline. Armie still can’t believe he has a fucking landline in this shit apartment. Hits his head every time he goes to take a piss, but by gosh has he got a relic of a phone that no one calls anymore.

Seeing Nick’s phone still lit up in his hand, he should know better, but he snoops.

The most recent message is from Ash. He figures quantity over quality at this point, so he just reads the last few texts.

_ 00:10 Nick Delli Santi (ND): Better me than the kids. _

_ 00:11 ND: Look, I can’t talk right now, but please? _

_ 00:11 ND: I already know I have to get the pool filter replaced, but if there’s any way you and some of the guys can get the smoker out of the pool? _

_ 00:12 Ashton Ramsey (AR): Your wish is my command, sergeant butthole. _

It takes everything Armie has not to laugh his ass off.

_ 00:13 ND: Thank you, Ash. Really. _

_ 00:13 ND: For everything. _

_ 00:14 AR: No problem brother, but we are talking when you get back. _

_ 06:40 AR: Hey, let me know when you’ve landed safe. _

_ 09:45 ND: On the ground in New York and on my way to take Armie’s phone away. _

_ 06:46 AR: Saint Niccolo, we don’t deserve you. <3 _

A break in texts and then the most recent exchange.

_ 09:43 AR: Hey, we’re on the way to get the smoker out. Have you talked to Armie at all about all that stuff last night? _

_ 12:45 ND: A bit, but I can’t right now. He’s already got too much going on. I’ve got everything handled, promise. _

_ 12:46 ND: It’s okay _

_ 10:30 AR: If you say so. _

_ 10:31 AR: Had to partially drain the pool but we’ve almost got it out. _

Armie shakes his head slightly. How the hell Liz managed to rage push the fucking smoker all the way down the patio and into the pool was amazing, and he’s grateful for his friends coming together so quickly.

The phone buzzes in his hand, this time from his publicist, Evelyn. Armie swallows hard.

_ 11:15 (Evelyn Vasquez): You owe me big time, Delli Santi. _

_ 11:16 EV: Liz isn’t making a statement for now, but you’re damn lucky I’m not quitting over that shitshow last night. The media is going insane out here, and the video has now been made into a number of gif sets on tumblr. Twitter is having a field day with screenshots and peach emojis. There’s people trashing him and Tim for breaking up the Hammers’ perfect marriage. I’ve managed to keep some of it off Timmy, but there is never going to be another google result that doesn’t immediately suggest “Armie Hammer penis video!” _

_ 11:18 EV: Why doesn’t he just do fucking porn at this point? _

_ 11:18 EV: Ugh, so done. _

_ 11:19 EV: I expect that money in my account by tomorrow morning. _

Armie swallows hard. He doesn’t even want to know how much keeping Evelyn on is costing Nick. Nick’s got a sizeable trust fund that he isn’t afraid to dip into when he really needs to, and being a high end international realtor keeps his money coming in nicely, but a scandal like this, Armie almost doesn’t want to know the price tag on. Almost. He owes Nick that and Liz’s spa bill. He also owes Mama Carolyn a fuckton of flowers and one hell of a thank you note for letting Liz go to town on her card. (“It’s not the black Amex! You think I’d give that to Liz?” Nick had clarified earlier, but still.)

Back to messages, before Ash he sees his mother’s contact and swallows hard. Nothing from Liz since yesterday evening, something about designer luggage and a bottle of some absurdly expensive Chardonnay she just HAD to have. So at least Liz hasn’t been after Nick, but he takes a deep breath, opens Dru’s with caution and scrolls up a little, blocks and blocks of texts from his mother, spewing pure hatred.

_**(STOP ALL YE SENSITIVE TO TERRIBLE LANGUAGE -- INSERT 500+ WORDS OF DRU HAMMER BEING A HOMOPHOBIC BITCH)** _

_ 07:02 (Dru Hammer) DH: What did you do to my son? _

_ 07:04 DH: I tolerated your little “bisexual” announcement a couple years ago because despite the fact that you make my skin crawl, I knew the Lord would either guide you to the Light, or you would spend eternity in damnation. I’m fine with both of those options for a scruffy little guido tramp, but my son? If only I knew that you’d been grooming him with your perversions, probably since you were children. Are you grooming my grandchildren now? Are you teaching them impure thoughts? It makes me sick that you were ever in my home, and it terrifies me the role you have with my grandchildren! Where are they? _

_ 07:45 DH: I know you can see these you little cocksucker. Where did you put my grandchildren?  _

_ 07:57 DH: I hope you have that disgusting faggots disease. It doesn’t kill enough of your kind any more but I’m sure with the amount you whore yourself around, there’s no way you don’t have it. How else would a rotten little wop like you get anywhere, but particularly in California. I don’t know why anyone would ever try anything with those dumb little girls anymore. None of them realize that sex sells, they just whine that sexual harassment bullshit but you’re enough of a piece of trash that I’m sure there isn’t a person in Hollywood that you haven’t defiled. That’s probably how you sell your houses too. It’s just such a shame for those poor buyers, having to deal with a slimy little tramp like you. _

_ 08:18 DH: Where are my grandchildren??? you disgusting fucking faggot piece of shit. _

_ 08:43 DH: You’re such a nasty little trollop. I don’t know why I ever let my son associate with you. You’ve clearly been a terrible influence. Did you talk him into putting that vile video up? Did you encourage him towards that little french tart that won’t ever shut up about him? Have you really made my son so sick for him to think that he’s mistaken and wants that little cumrag? _

Armie swallows hard. If he had anything else in his system after his earlier barfing stint that he would be sick again now, the vile things his mother is spewing about both Nick and now Timmy. How fucking dare she.

He can hear Nick in the kitchen still, it sounds like he’s trying to wrap up his call so he reads on, shocked at the composure of Nick in his reply.

_ 09:50 ND: Good morning Dru. I apologize that you’re upset about last night. I haven’t “done” anything to your son, but I am going to see him very soon as I am concerned. Your grandchildren are perfectly safe with family friends.  _

_ 08:53 DH: That’s a load of garbage. _

_ 08:55 DH: Anyone you know must be filth absolute. How dare you send my grandchildren to be corrupted by some crowd of bums. You sick, sick man, do you think you just have the authority to make those decisions? Where did you send my grandchildren? _

_ 09:58 ND: They’re with good friends of Armie’s in California. They’re safe and well taken care of. You know as well as I do I’m the one listed for guardianship if Elizabeth and Armie are incapacitated.  _

_ 10:00 ND: Considering one put his genitals on the internet and the other threw pretty much every object she could put her hands on last night, I think neither one of them should be making decisions for another day or two. _

_ 10:04 ND: They’re safe. They’re with people Armie trusts. I’ll be back in California by tomorrow. _

_ 10:20 DH: How dare you speak to me that way? I will have our lawyers on your repulsive little ass before you know it. It’s probably your fault that Armie thinks he’s as depraved as you. And with you playing house with Elizabeth, you’re weakening their marriage, you’re twisting her thoughts. You’re the rotten root of all of this evil, aren’t you? _

_ 10:30 DH: WHERE ARE MY GRANDCHILDREN? _

_ 11:05 DH: You little cocksucking faggot piece of shit. I will ruin you. You will never set a foot outside again without looking over your shoulder. _

_ 11:10 DH: You deserve to get dragged down an alley where no one will hear your screams and atone for your sins. They’ll ruin you. Beat you. Hopefully, you’ll die. _

_ 11:14 DH: The world would be so much better without a nasty little faggot like you fucking it all-- _

**_SEVERAL TEXT SPANNING OVER FOUR HOURS BLAMING NICK FOR 'CORRUPTING' ARMIE, RUINING THE HAMMERS' MARRIAGE, DRU WANTING TO KNOW WHERE THE KIDS ARE RIGHT FUCKING NOW. NICK IS COMPOSED AND MINIMAL IN HIS REPLIES AND ARMIE IS IN THE MIDDLE OF READING A THREATENING TEXT FROM DRU WHEN NICK RETURNS_ **

“Jesus, Armie!” Nick’s hand closes around his phone, pressing the lock button. Armie doesn’t release it, daring a look up at his friend.

“How can you let her say those things to you? You don’t…” Armie swallows hard. He feels bile rising in his throat. “I’m gonna kill her.”

“No, you’re not.” Nick’s voice is firm, and one hand slides from where it’s over Armie’s on his phone, locating the pressure point on Armie’s wrist, digging his thumbnail in, deeper and deeper until Armie finally relents, letting go. “You’re not going to do anything to Dru. And she’s not going to do anything to me. This is why I didn’t want you reading those messages. She’s left worse on your phone.” Armie can’t help himself. He gags, can’t get up in time, but Nick grabs a spare blanket for Armie to cough sour bile into.

“Why are you good at catching vomit?” Armie finds himself both laughing and crying as Nick rolls up the soiled blanket, tosses it onto the wood floor across the room. The next thing he knows, he’s pulled against Nick’s chest, burying his face in his t-shirt and trying to slow his breathing.

“You’ve never played catch the vomit when the kids eat things out of the dirt?” Nick asks lightly and Armie snorts. “Now, lunch will be here soon. I want you to go take a shower. Put on something clean and we can start planning for how to deal with all this, kay?” Armie nods.

“Okay.” He doesn’t lift his head, slides his arms around Nick’s back, hugs him tight. “Okay.” He says again and Nick ruffles his hair. Armie manages a half smile as he gets up, watching Nick’s attention return to his phone, brows furrowing lightly as he starts clicking away on it.

Armie makes it to the bathroom, aggressively brushes his teeth till his gums bleed, spits the mess into the sink. Can still taste bile in his throat.

When he gets in the shower, he can’t make it hot enough to chase away the last of the bitter New York winter. And no matter how hard he tries, his thoughts keep returning to the awful things his mother said and for that, he leans against the wall and cries.

***

“Timmy…”

Timmy grunts, pulling the blanket a little tighter around himself. Armie had just been here. Had to have been, felt so warm and safe.

“Timmy.” A slightly more urgent, annoyed voice chimes in and the events of the past twenty-four hours come crashing back at high speed.

“Fuck.” No Armie with him. No warm, fuzzy feeling. Just a whole lot of people who not only know about their relationship but have seen Armie’s cock in extremely impressive detail.

“Precisely. Now, there’s a sandwich for you here, and then we need to talk.” Brian’s tone is the last thing he wants to hear right now, but he’s pretty sure the first voice was Pauline so he’s relatively safe to sit up now.

Brian’s face is serious, but in a more resigned way. Pauline looks tired but gives him a small smile, passes him a sandwich.

They eat in silence for several minutes before Brian sighs and begins to speak, a much more careful tone than Timmy’s heard so far today.

“So, it’s just now hitting the press, but I spoke to The Old Vic.” Timmy’s gut feels like he ate a rock rather than a sandwich. “They’re postponing to find a new actor for Leo. I’m sorry Timothèe.”

“Oh.” Pauline’s arm slides around him and she leans her head on his shoulder as Timmy nods, attempting a smile. “I...I understand. I wouldn’t want them to worry about a situation like this taking away from what they’ve worked so hard on.” Breathes deep. It hurts, stings something fierce, losing a part. This isn’t how he wanted to come out. This isn’t how he wanted to announce his relationship with Armie. But at the same time, he feels an undercurrent of relief. “That’s probably a good thing. I’ve been overdoing it and I need to get back to New York. When can we leave?” Brian makes a sour face.

“I’d wait a few days for all of...this, to die down.” Brian’s tone is firm. 

Timmy is about to protest when Brian’s phone rings. He glances at it, raises an eyebrow. Silences it. Let's go to voicemail. Brian looks like he’s on the verge of opening his mouth again when the phone goes off again. He looks at it, scowling lightly before picking it up.

“Brian Swar--ah! Well, I’m about as well as can be. We’re _working_ on a pl--no, he’s right here. And--yes, I saw the news. Oh, yes. We’ll be _going_ _ba_ \--what? You can’t be--” Brian finally surrenders, tired of the interruptions apparently. “Fine, he’s right here.” Brian extends his arm, passing Timmy the phone with an unreadable expression.

“Hello?” Timmy answers timidly, not quite sure who he wants to be on the other end of the call.

“ _Mio caro. Dimmi tutto_.” He never expected this call, but until that moment, he didn’t know exactly who he needed to talk to and a new wave of tears and relief washes over him.

“Luca!” 

***

When Armie finally drags himself from the shower, it’s to the smell of good food, namely his favorite little Italian place that Nick actually trusts the food at.

There’s pizza, purely because Armie always goes to it as a comfort food, fresh baked ziti with vegetables, a beautiful salad, and a few other containers still in the bag on the counter. Armie fixes himself a plate and goes to sit next to Nick, who’s still scowling at his phone and tapping away.

“Are you still hearing from my mother?” Nick shrugs.

“Once I let her know that my lawyer was getting a screenshot of all her texts, radio silence. How was your shower?”

“It was okay. Feel a little less gross, but not much.” Nick rests his head on Armie’s shoulder for a moment. “Thank you. For the food, and dealing with all of this so far.”

“How many of my texts did you snoop through?”

“I wasn’t snooping.” Armie’s tone is petulant and Nick picks his head up to give him a look that tells Armie to cut the crap immediately. Not wanting to add to Nick’s plate, he backs down. “I saw Liz put my smoker in the pool from Ash. You bribed my publicist into not saying, ‘Fuck this, I’m out.’ All that garbage from my mom--”

“Don’t make yourself sick again, please.” Nick’s hand is raised and Armie nods, taking a few slow deep breaths. "I started a load of your laundry and now I’m going to go make use of your shower. Please try to eat; slowly if you need to. And lots of water.” Nick stands up, rolls his shoulders and stuff his phone in his pocket. Taps it. “This comes with me and I’m locking the door.”

Armie sticks his tongue out.

“I can pick locks.”

“Fine, if I find a condom and some lube, I’ll tuck it somewhere you won’t want to find it while I shower.”

“That’s gross, Delli Santi.” Armie throws a chunk of zucchini at him and Nick snorts.

“I know, you like a much slimmer hip than I’m rocking.” Nick runs his hands down his side, the tiniest softness at his waist since he slipped over thirty last year. “In fact, I now know all the graphic details of exactly why you like Tim’s ‘perfect little peach booty.’”

“Shut up.” Armie puts his head in his hands and Nick laughs, lightly slaps him on the back as he walks past. Armie swats his ass in return and gets a surprised yelp. Armie smirks as Nick gives him the finger.

The rest of their day is uneventful. By evening, they’re drinking lightly, just nursing a few beers, smoking weed with the window cracked to settle Armie’s nerves. They’re going through the news now, giggling at the ridiculous headlines of the day.

“ _Have you ever wanted to see Armie Hammer’s hammer_?” Armie wiggles his eyebrows suggestively from one side of the couch.

“Not really.”

“Fuck you.”

“After the second date.” And they both dissolve into laughter. “Oh, ‘ _how to estimate the length of a penis_ ,’ is trending up by 800% on Google.” Armie groans, knowing Nick’s going to immediately type it into his search bar. “ _Ten_ inches? Are you sure?” Nick casts a skeptical glance at the front of Armie’s pajama pants and Armie throws a pillow at him.

“Timmy says I’m a shower  _ and _ a grower.” Nick makes a face, goes looking for the next headline.

“ _Penis Video Destroys Fairytale Perfect Hollywood Marriage_.”

“Penis video?”

“ _Armie Hammer’s latest drunken twitter adventure, this time complete with an ode to Timothée Chalamet’s perfect ass_.” Nick gives him a look, wiggling his eyebrows and Armie groans. “ _Although Hammer seems to have misplaced his spellcheck, his analysis of Mr. Chalamet’s derrière is spot on_. See, not all bad?” Armie wishes he had another pillow to throw and goes back to his own searching.

“ _Surreptitious affair four years in the making? Call My by Your Name star’s steamy late night confessions._ Oh God. It sounds like bad porn.” Nick cracks up at Armie’s assessment.

“It kind of was. You were very, very graphic a couple times. Including about three tweets worth of how perfect Timmy’s ass is for eating and how you ‘want to live with your face between those cheeks foreverrr.’” Armie blanches.

“What the fuck did I drink last night?”

“You mixed your fucking Percocet with vodka. You were probably hypoventilating and your rising CO2 was causing altered mental status.” Nick gave with a shrug and Armie fixed him with a look.

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“That ICU nurse I dated last year. Pretty, kind of strawberry blond, just a little shorter than me. Made a mean martini and could fuck like nobody’s business. I never knew I could be multi-orgasmic until I met him.” Nick hummed, eyes going distant before he settled back into his corner, long legs tucked up under the pillow he cuddled. Armie withheld commentary. After everything the world had seen from Armie last night, his friend could at least talk about a previous boyfriend. 

“What happened?” Nick shrugs and it makes Armie sad. Nick deserves someone who could take care of him.

“He does travel nursing. He got a really good contract in Boston, so off to the other side of the country he went. We still text sometimes.” Nick takes a long swallow of his beer and Armie crawls closer, dropping his head on Nick’s pillow, weed loosening his lips.

“You know you’re really gorgeous, right?” Nick snickered and Armie scowled lightly. “I’m serious. If you weren’t literally like my brother and I weren’t in love with Timmy, I’d be all over you. But it just feels…”

“Like coming onto a family member? Kind of gross?”

“Yeah!”

“Same way I feel about you.” Nick ruffled his hair again. “And with that, I think it’s bedtime.”

Nick shooed Armie off to brush his teeth while he tidied up the living room, tugged the window shut and ambled towards Armie’s room. Armie had settled into bed but watched Nick make his way to the bathroom. Heard water run, tooth brushing, Nick pissing, the toilet flush and another bit of water running.

“You still cool with me sleeping here?” Nick asked and Armie nodded. He’d pitched a fit to get a king bed and there was no way he was putting Nick on the couch after the man had flown across the country overnight to take care of him. 

“Plenty of room. And I promise I’ll leave your phone alone.” Nick gave him a skeptical look, sitting on the bed, one leg tucked under him. “I’m serious!”

“Hmm.” Nick made a face but turned, dropped the phone on the nightstand. In the process of turning, his shirt rode up in the back and on the left side, just above the waistband of the pajamas...

“What the hell Niki?” Armie reached out before he could help himself, pressed a finger to the bruise, black and purple beginning to yellow under his skin. Nick hissed and squirmed away, tugging his shirt down.

“Asshole, don’t poke people’s bruises. I was carrying the groceries in and the kids were underfoot and I didn’t want to hit them and I backed into that stupid table Liz keeps in the hall. That weird artsy one with the glass top and the really pointy metal corners that I’m always telling her the kids are going to run into?”

“Ugh, I know exactly which one you’re talking about.” Armie hated so much of Liz’s furniture, he couldn’t wait to get his own place. Another unexpected plus side of his situation, new California living quarters, ASAP. “I’ll make sure not to put anything like that in my new place.”

“Good. We’ll start shopping when we’re back in Cali, but that’s all part of tomorrow’s planning. Tonight is about sleep.” Nick finally dropped to the pillow, curled on his right side, the same way he always slept. And like every time they camped, Armie lay down on his left, turning the light off before he pushed his back against Nick’s.

“Be careful with that stupid light in the bathroom if you gotta pee.”

“Mmmhm.” Nick already sounded most of the way to passed out and Armie shifted a little, getting his sleep position just right and drifting off to the sound of Nick’s slow, steady breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will start looking up, maybe, a tiny bit, in the next chapter.  
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Operazione: Salva le Pesche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Operazione: Salva le Pesche_ and Armie is faced with the gravity of his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This not my favorite chapter I've ever written, but I feel like I needed to get this part to poke the story along to the next bit. There's a little more Timmy than Armie in this particular chapter, but the next one will be a more even split, perhaps with a lean towards Armie.

The second Timmy heard Luca’s steady, quiet voice coo to him through the line, he broke, curling in on himself.

“ _Mio caro, mio caro. Va tutto bene. Sono qui._ We’ll talk in your time.” Luca says lightly and Timmy manages to gather himself, wiping his face free of snot for the second time this evening. He’s not even so much...sad about the situation. He has no right to cry. The longer he and Armie had put off coming out, the more likely it was that one of them would slip up. Timmy knew it really could have been either of them, but he hadn’t expected so much, so graphically from Armie before the older man could even announce his divocrce.

“Luca, I’m so sorry.” Would _Call Me by Your Name_ ’s legacy be tainted by this? Would this ruin Luca’s long dreamed-of plans for a sequel?

“Nonsense. _Ti amo ancora. E adoro anche Armie._ You have nothing to apologize for.” Luca’s voice is strong, secure yet guiding, lulling and firm all at once, reminding Timmy exactly why he felt so safe in Crema with Luca and Armie. “Perhaps it was wrong of me to encourage you to hide your feelings. I just didn’t want that performance, that love, everything you put into _Call Me by Your Name_ to be overshadowed by your coming out. Each of those things was to be celebrated in its own time, though, mio Dio, they can certainly hold onto the latter for far too long. I just wish it wouldn’t have happened this way.” Timmy sniffled, bringing a fresh tissue to his nose to fight off another wave of snot from crying.

“It’s not you, Luca. It’s…” Timmy swallowed hard, nausea building fast in the pit of his stomach. “It’s all of us.” He recovered. Timmy knew what he really wanted to say. He was mad at Brian for his constant suggestions of after this project, after that project. He was mad at himself for not having the balls to just announce he was gay, especially after Call Me by Your Name’s promo and awards potential was done. He was mad at Armie, for more things than he wanted to think about. But how could he still be that furious with Armie, so betrayed, so hurt, when he knew Armie’s mistake had come from a place of loneliness and pain?

“Perhaps.” Luca says lightly. “But I think you need a place to feel safe and express your feelings for a few days, no?” Timmy’s ears perk up, and he swears he can see Brian’s magazine snap down across the room, his mouth twisting into a sour expression that Timmy was all too familiar with.

“I’d like it. _Penso che sarebbe buono per me. Dovrò chiedere al falco._ ” Luca laughs lightly and Timmy has to bite his lip, tears finally settled as he tries not to laugh at Brian’s increasingly disapproving expression. Brian did in fact watch him like a hawk, and he looked about as dour as one most of the time too.

“Oh don’t you worry about him. I already sent Peter explicit instructions. You need a break from all that ridiculous media _cazzate_!” Luca declares and Timmy can’t fight a smile.

“What is that look for?” Brian is looking increasingly displeased but Pauline is up, shushing Brian back into his chair, her eyebrow arching at Timmy carefully.

_ A carry on. Couple days. Then home.  _

Timmy mouths the words to his sister and is relieved when Pauline’s confusion melts into an easy grin before she wanders in the direction of the bedroom. Brian is looking more like he’s trying to lay an egg now and Timmy covers his smile in the baggy sleeve of his sweatshirt as he settles a little deeper into the couch.

“ _Qual è il piano_?” Every time a word leaves Timmy’s mouth in Italian, Brian looks more like he’s going to take his phone back and Timmy’s mentally adding to a tally of the thanks he owes Nick for keeping his Italian sharp. Brian’s picked up enough French over the years to know when Timmy’s trying to sneak something by him, but his Italian is still lacking.

“Your car should be there in just about five minutes. You’ll be taken to the private terminal at Heathrow and as soon as you settle in with a Xanax and a little wine, and we shall be there to collect you in Milan, _bambino_.” Timmy grins.

“Good night Luca. _A presto arrivederci_.” Timmy hangs up, locks the screen and passes it back to Brian. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what precisely you’re plotting, young man, but I--” Brian’s phone goes off again and he sighs heavily, glaring at it before his eyes soften. “Hey, love.” Brian says when he answers it, face relaxing momentarily before his brow furrows. “What do you mean, don’t be mad?”

“All set, Timo!” Pauline emerges from the bedroom, all his things he’ll need over the next few days packed.

“All set for WHAT? Absolutely not, _no._ I forbid it!” Brian’s severe, angry expression is the last thing in the world Timmy wants to see right now, and he snaps.

“Fine. You’re fired. I want my phone.” Timmy says, surprising himself with his own control and calm in the moment. When he holds his hand out, Brian still looks shocked. “My phone.” Timmy says slowly, enunciates the words carefully. Pauline joins him facing Brian and the older man can only open and close his mouth like a fish, helpless. Pauline’s eyebrow arches and she comes a step closer. The phone is immediately produced from Brian’s pocket and passed to Timmy.

“Peter’s downstairs.” Brian says quietly and Timmy nods. Timmy really doesn’t want to fire Brian. The man is phenomenal at looking after his career, managing his relationship with the press. In many ways, he knows he’s luckier than most. But he’s 24 now. He has to be allowed to make some decisions on his own.

They’ll talk later, Timmy decides as he makes his way out the door, a beanie Pauline snuck to him tugged over his riot of curls. It’s not quite what he usually wears but that’s the point.

Thankfully, there appears to be no one on the street as he walks directly to the dark blue SUV waiting at the curb. The back door opens, Peter leaning across to give him access.

“I feel a bit bad betraying my other half here, but I think you need a little independence, and if you’re going to lay low a few days before flying back to the states, it might as well be somewhere you feel comfortable and safe.” Timmy smiles.

“I told him he was fired, but that was just to get my phone back.” Timmy admits, guilt washing over him as they make their way to the airport. He vaguely recognizes the driver. It’s someone Brian has hired for them before and he’s always been extremely discreet. “I didn’t really mean it.”

“I know that, Tim, and so does Brian. And you’re getting too old for him to talk to you the same way he did when you first met.” Timmy nods and Peter pats his knee. “I’ll smooth things over with my husband after we drop you off. I can’t say this is a...good situation, but I’m glad you’re getting a bit of time off, and a few days to recharge somewhere you’re comfortable, in several senses of that word.” Timmy nods and manages a small smile.

“Thank you, for everything through this process, and with just everything.” Timmy sighs heavily and Peter hums low in his throat before beginning to speak.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that I wasn’t Armie’s number one fan and the first few times I saw you two together, I thought very little of it. Character bleed, at best, maybe him taking advantage a little at worst. 

“Armie’s actions last night were crude, thoughtless, and in incredibly poor taste, but there was no malice.” Peter said, frowning lightly. “The man I first met in Crema, and the man I met after you had been with him for six weeks, well, they were very different people, and the man that left Bergamo loves you more than anything. It’s been four years, you’ve both grown so much, and yet your relationship has endured. I can’t say I’m pleased with Armie right now, but I wonder, if there hadn’t been so much pressure on you both to hide for so long, if it would have gotten to this point.” Peter’s expression is soft, pensieve. It shifts to the smallest smile as they slide through the gate to the private terminal.

“Thank you.” Timmy doesn’t know how to put enough gratitude into his voice and Peter simply nods, reaches over, grabs his hands and squeezes them.

“We’ll work this out. Somehow. And don’t worry about Brian, I’ll make sure things are okay and we’ll have everything handled for when we get back to the States.” Timmy nods, not trusting his voice and slides out, popping in his AirPods as he follows the security personnel, letting them screen his bag. Timmy doesn’t typically do this much of the VIP thing, but considering the circumstances, the fewer people he interacts with, the better.

He’s escorted to his gate, one of the very first to board the tiny jet. It’s truly little, just ten rows of seats, two on one side, one seat on the other, four across the back row. Timmy claims the frontmost solo seat, stows his bag, and shifts himself, pretending to look disinterested as he glances out the window.

It’s weird to finally have his phone after so long. As the other passengers board, he chews his lip, drops his head to look at the screen, turning it on, becoming just another kid staring at his phone.

The second it comes back on, it’s still buzzing, overexcited as a whole new flood of messages arrive from when Brian turned it off this morning.

There are a ridiculous number of calls from Brian, as to be expected. Dozens of missed calls from Pauline, frantic texts asking where he is and what he’s doing and begging him to stay away from any media. There’s a handful of calls, even a gruff but kind voicemail from his quiet father. His mother has called a couple dozen times, in between writing him paragraphs and paragraphs of concerned texts.

There’s a lot of spam from numbers based in London, New York, LA. He deletes anything that looks like an interview request, a beg for a comment, anything prying into his life.

A couple of texts pop up from Liz.

_ 13:10 (Elizabeth Hammer) EH: You filthy little piece of shit. I will ruin you. You have no goddamn future. _

_ 13:11 EH: Homewrecker _

_ 13:11 EH: Whore _

Then three little dots. 

This was now, she had her phone, and Timmy fought back a wave of nausea as the texts began to pour in, rapid fire.

_ 13:11 EH: We never really wanted you around. _

_ 13:12 EH: Some stupid kid with a fancy name getting his 15 minutes of fame. _

_ 13:12 EH: Armie doesn’t love you. _

_ 13:12 EH: That pathetic child doesn’t know what love is. _

_ 13:13 EH: I hope you lose everything. _

_ 13:13 EH: You’re nothing but a little slut. _

_ 13:14 EH: You will lose everything. _

_ 13:14 EH: No one could ever love you. _

_ 13:14 EH: I mean is there literally anything good about you? _

_ 13:15 EH: And trying to seduce a married man? I know you’re going to play the poor innocent kid card when you brought this all on yourself. _

_ 13:16 EH: Do you actually think anyone likes you? _

_ 13:17 EH: It would be so much better if you were dead. _

Timmy forces himself to stop reading. He blocks Elizabeth’s number, aggressively swiping at his eyes to fight back the urge to cry. Timmy had really tried to keep his and Armie’s sexual contact to a minimum after the bubble of Crema, and before his lover could broach the topic of separation and divorce, but he can’t reconcile the cruel messages with the smiling woman who made him cookies and ruffled his hair every time he was around their family.

_ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.  _ Timmy swallows hard, goes back to his text menu.

Armie’s are a disaster. There’s over fifty of them spanning more than three hours. The occasional blurry photo, a tilted selfie of Armie crying. So much about how Armie missed him like somebody had ripped his heart out and thrown it in the ocean. Timmy can’t breathe absorbing his lover’s despair and navigates out of those texts too.

There’s a handful of voicemails from Armie but he doesn’t listen to those yet. He can’t, he knows they’ll hurt too much.

Timmy switches his phone to Wi-Fi, stuffs it in his pocket as the plane takes off. He doesn’t even get his usual pre-takeoff jitters. He’s numb, exhausted at this point. Had everything still been so normal less than 24 hours ago?

Timmy sighs, willing himself to go through the texts just a little more.

There’s a couple from Luca detailing _Operazione: Salva le Pesche_ , Timmy couldn’t hold in his chuckles at those.

He’s touched to see texts from the Ramsey brothers, who along with Nick, makeup Armie’s most inner circle.

_ 01:03 (Tyler Ramsey) TR: Hey man, it’s Tyler. I know we didn’t get a chance to do a ton of hanging out but I know Armie’s crazy about you and loves you.You mean the world to him, and I hope you know Jackie, the kids, and I all have your back and you’re always welcome with us. _

_ 00:47 AR: Timmyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. It’s Ash. Sup kiddo? I hope you know we all love you. We’re with you and Armie 100% and there’s so much love for both of you. _

_ 00:02 ND: Timmy, I’m headed to New York from Cali. Please don’t look at anything on TV or social media. Call me as soon as you see this. _

_ 09:29 ND: Hey, I’m in New York, please call me when you can. _

_ 09:55 ND: I’ve talked to your sister obviously, but still feel free to text or call when you’ve got your phone back. I’m going to arrange a burner phone for Armie, a new number, so certain people can’t flood him with stuff that won’t help anyone. Top secret, capisci? _

_ 10:00 ND: Block Liz’s number if you can. If Armie’s mother tries to text you, block her. And immediately let me know. Screenshot anything she sends you. _

_ 10:02 ND: I know it’s a lot right now, but I love you. I’ve got Armie so you don’t need to worry about him right now. Just please take care of yourself and remember Armie’s whole gang is in your corner and loves you. Do not let Liz or Dru get to you. _

Nick’s steady support and firm direction was familiar, calming. Timmy can’t even recall how many times Nick had kept Armie in line or Elizabeth from driving them both crazy. How he’d take Timmy aside, sometimes out back to smoke, not even saying anything if he knew Timmy wasn’t in a talking mood. Just his presence was a balm on Timmy’s anxious mind.

_ 23:03 TC: I love you too. Thank you for everything today. <3 _

_ 23:05 TC: Elizabeth was sending some really mean messages but I blocked her. _

_ 17:06 ND: Do you mind sending me screenshots? _

Timmy pauses.

_ 23:07 TC: Yeah, I don’t mind. _

_ 23:07 TC: Can I ask why? _

Nick’s three little dots appear and disappear several times over the next few minutes.

_ 17:15 ND: I’m trying to be proactive and not reactive. _

_ 17:16 ND: Everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours is going to negatively affect Armie’s separation, divorce agreement when it comes, custody. _

_ 17:18 ND: Even the smallest things can make a big difference. _

The dots again. Appear. Disappear. Appear again then disappear and don’t come back. Timmy uses the time to screenshot the hurtful messages to Elizabeth and send them along to Nick.

As they make their final descent into the airport in Milan, Nick’s next text comes.

_ 18:12 ND: This is Armie’s new phone number. 310-555-3546 _

_ 18:13 ND: Please, maximum security around that number. Do not share it with anyone. _

_ 00:13 TC: You know I won’t. _

Timmy bites his lip. Nick’s always trusted him, he wonders why all of a sudden he’d be so determined Timmy knew something so obvious.

_ 18:15 ND: I’m sorry if I’m coming off forcefully. It’s truly not my intention, and you know I trust you with Armie’s life. _

_ 18:16 ND: But Dru and Elizabeth can NOT get that number. _

_ 18:18 ND: I have to go back to California tomorrow evening. If all goes as planned, it will be a quick turn around, but that still means Armie will be alone for a short period. I’m putting some stuff into place so his time will be full, but *he will fucking lose it* if they send even a fraction of the nastygrams I’ve gotten. _

It’s a little past midnight and time to disembark. Timmy’s focus shifts, no longer on his phone, but on walking steadily towards the pickup area, unsure what to be looking for or if he had to just beg a cab, he’s about to grab his phone to text Luca when he hears a familiar voice call out.

“Oliver!”

Timmy’s head whips to the side and he grins. Stefano, Armie’s beloved chef from _Trattoria Via Vai_ is standing there with a grin and a small poster board with the restaurant’s name and logo. When Timmy gets close, Stefano speaks in a lower voice.

“It would have been more accurate to call you Elio, but I figure Oliver is a bit more of a common name.” His accent is thick as always, but his English excellent, having improved even more from all the fans and visitors to Crema that went looking for his amazing cooking on Armie’s recommendation. The chef’s smile is warm, stable but tired. Timmy wonders if the news of Armie’s late night internet postings had made their way to Crema yet.

They walk quickly and quietly to an older SUV, Stefano opening the back for Timmy to toss his luggage in before Timmy heads for the front seat. It’s not quite an uncomfortable silence but Timmy can feel the questions lingering in the air. Timmy knows they can trust Stefano if Luca is the one who sent him, but that doesn’t necessarily mean Stefano approves of the whole situation.

“I don’t doubt Armie is the Oliver of your life. The greatest love brings the strongest emotions, and why you may have a happy ending compared to theirs, does not mean the path is always easy.” Stefano speaks after several minutes and Timmy feels like he can breathe fully again for the first time since the airport. Part of Armie’s love of the restaurant was when it was slow, Stefano would impart these little wisdoms, not in a preachy way, just observations of life, even letting Armie join him in the kitchen once or twice on a slow evening. Armie needed those kinds of older male, almost father figures in his life.

“I knew it wouldn’t be easy.” Timmy answered quietly, swallowing hard. He attempts several beginnings to what he wants to say next but they all die in his throat as his vision goes misty. He knows if he gets into talking about his feelings, he’ll be a sobbing mess, and if that’s going to happen, he wants that moment to come with Luca, who has already seen his soul, examined it, dissected it on film and then carefully, lovingly swept it back together and returned it to Timmy in better condition than when he first found it.

“ _Ti sento pensare._ I have seen, ah, quite a lot of Armie today.” Stefano says carefully. “I thought him better than to do something so... _ripugnante_. But a broken heart cannot be trusted to stay silent.” Stefano reaches over, pats Timmy warmly on the leg once, and the rest of the way to Luca’s, the car is quiet and peaceful.

***

Today, Armie’s wake up is much more peaceful. The few times he’d tossed and turned in the night, Nick had shuffled closer and his friend’s presence was enough to settle him. When Armie woke in a cold sweat, at three in the morning, his breath coming in ragged pants as what he was putting Timmy through hitting him full force. He wanted to run and hide, but where could he go?

“ _Dormita_.” Nick mumbled, taking one of Armie’s hands in his own and gently pulling until Armie fell up back to the pillows and dozed back off, Nick’s grip relaxing but never quite letting go.

The familiar smell of Nick’s body wash and cologne hung in the air and when Armie sat up enough, the bathroom mirror was still fogged up. Nick had been up and productive enough to shower, but not that long ago.

Armie took his time, ducking past the ridiculous chandelier to head into the shower himself, unable to fight back a moan when the hot water beat down on the tight muscles of his back, arms, and shoulders. As environmentally unfriendly as it was, Armie spent several minutes just enjoying the water pressure’s gentle massage of his back before he finally ran shampoo through his hair, moving on to his body, trying to fight off the urge to go after the familiar tingle of shame at his behavior that lingered on his skin.

By the time he was out of the shower, he could hear faint voices in his apartment, and curious about the unfolding of whatever today’s events would be, quickly dressed and made his way out to the main room.

“Armand.” Evelyn’s voice scolds the second Armie steps into sight of the main room and he immediately cringes.

“Let the man get a cup of coffee, first.” Another voice pipes up and Armie flinches to see Tracy sitting next to Anna. _Shit_.

“There are bagels too.” Nick says lightly, getting up from the couch. Armie follows him immediately to the kitchen, just out of the eyes of their guests. “I’m sorry for the rotten surprise, but there are things we do need to take care of on a practical basis.” Nick looks genuinely apologetic as he passes Armie an everything bagel slathered in cream cheese before going to fix his friend’s coffee. “You really should eat.” Nick's voice is still mild as he stirs a splash of milk into Armie’s coffee.

“I know, Niki. Thank you, for…” Armie doesn’t even know how to sum up how much Nick has done for his life the past few days, but Nick brushes it off with ease, wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t. It comes with the fancy sash that declares me your best friend.” Armie can’t help barking a laugh and Nick claps him firmly on the back, not removing his hand until after they’ve rounded the corner out to the living room.

When Armie has sunk into the open seat on the couch next to Nick, he’s not quite sure where to look first. He takes a bite of his bagel, follows it with a long drink of coffee while Evelyn looks on as if Armie’s very presence is offensive at the moment. 

“Well, let’s just get rid of some of the elephants,” Tracy begins. “I don’t think we need to spend any time rehashing what’s already happened. Let’s just see how we can deal with it moving forward.”

“There is a video of his penis on Twitter that outed a co-star!” Evelyn declares and Armie can see Anna’s disapproval, but it doesn’t seem to be as directed at Armie but at Evelyn.

“Instagram.” Nick corrects gently and Armie can’t contain a tiny smirk when Tracy lets out a bark of laughter. 

“So, I’m fired?” Armie finally finds his voice, looking to Tracy and Anna. It doesn’t surprise him a bit. This was going to just be the first of many consequences for his fucking up.

“Quite surprisingly, no.” Anna states with a sigh. “At least not yet. We’ll see how this week goes and if we can just continue on, business as usual, with minimal interruption to our usual routines and performances. If at any point, Armie’s presence or the media circus that will likely continue to follow him causes any disruptions to our work, the decision will be extremely clear then.”

Armie swallows hard. He’s beyond grateful they’re not immediately throwing him to the curb. 

“I don’t think I have to tell you how lucky you are.” Evelyn sniffs. “Timmy was immediately dropped from _4000 miles_.”

“What?!” Armie’s jaw drops as his eyes snap to Evelyn, who shrugs lightly. She could be a cold and detached woman on a good day, but with her hair skinned back in a tight bun and perfectly stiff pantsuit, she looked an extra level of severe today.

“The Old Vic is a non-profit, they can’t afford to make bad financial decisions based on how much they may favor their little Hollywood star.” Evelyn’s eyes cut immediately to Tracy and Anna. Armie’s still reeling from the shock of finding out Timmy lost his part in his production. He fights back a wave of nausea at the knowledge that his fucked up actions cost Timmy something he had wanted so badly. A tiny part of him feels extra terribly that he wants to celebrate. At least Timmy can come home soon.

But he also can’t stand by and let Evelyn say rotten things about the people he cares about. He’s about to speak when Nick raises a hand in a delicate ‘ _stop_ ’ motion.

“I don’t think this is a discussion with any benefit. The good news is that as of right now, Armie has not lost his spot in _The Minutes_ , now we need to start working on public opinion and damage control to turn the narrative in our favor.” Nick has his business voice on, his features stern and Armie immediately feels a little more secure.

“Oh, is there any turn we can make?” Evelyn says haughtily, one overly thin eyebrow arched at Nick, a challenge.

“We can no longer delay the news of Armie’s divorce. He and Elizabeth have been separated since last August and we’ve slowly been working our way through the separation hearings. We remain respectful, apologetic towards Elizabeth through our statement on that matter. We also owe an apology to Timothée, the public, and Cort Theater. In turn, The Cort and this production might find it wise to lead the responses to these statements, acknowledging there were poor decisions made that resulted in inappropriate actions, but in light of Armie seeking treatment, it would be best to allow him to maintain a sense of normalcy and routine.”

“Treatment? For what?” Armie’s heart is racing. The logical part of his brain knows that he was the one to make the mistake of mixing Percocet and vodka that led to posting a dick pic (well, dick video. Dick vid?) He needs to play the next several steps extremely carefully to not only preserve his career, but hang onto a chance at a reasonable custody agreement, and perhaps even more importantly, not cause any further distress to Timmy.

“We’ll see if there’s anything beyond alcoholism, but it wouldn’t surprise me if you benefit from therapy to help you gain better coping mechanisms than you’ve had going through the past few years.” Nick explains, patting a friendly hand on Armie’s knee. “We’ll be leaving for your evaluation shortly.” Armie wants to protest, but he nods slowly, trusting his best friend through this. Nick squeezes his leg firmly before turning his attention to their guests.

“Thank you both for being here and your decision in this difficult situation. We promise we’ll do everything we can not to further impact such a great production.” Nick stands, shaking hands firmly with both Anna and Tracy before he offers to walk them out, the three of them speaking in low voices.

“I made a deal with Nick to stay on through the immediate crisis,” Evelyn begins as soon as Nick is out of earshot, her face in a sour scowl. “I simply cannot wait for the day when I am no longer attached to the dumpster fire that is your life.” Armie’s stomach drops. “Good luck finding anyone who wants to deal with someone who can be so obstreperous. Plus it’s, well, _you_.” Evelyn’s looking at him as if he’s a fresh pile of dog poop on a white rug, and Armie wishes the sofa would just swallow him whole.

  
  



	5. Bad Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy vents to Luca and Ferdinando upon his arrival to Italy. And the next morning in New York, Nick faces off with Evelyn on how to present Armie's future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a bazillion times longer than it should have and I'm SO SORRY.
> 
> Timmy in this chapter is a little bit emotional, and he basically is just getting his emotions out with regard to how he's processing the whole Armie situation. A more constructive, calm, sober conversation will follow up in the next chapter.
> 
> Time has also gotten a little wonky here. Crema is six hours ahead of NYC, but with how the story has gotten spread out, Armie's portions are technically happening ahead of some of Timmy's. (Think late at night Wednesday into super early Thursday morning for T, while it's already mid-morning on Thursday for A) I know it's weird and super confusing because it's actually the complete opposite of their time difference. I'm going to fix it and plan to spend the next chapter catching Timmy up to Armie's timing so it gets less confusing.
> 
> This also takes place in a COVID-free 2020, think the second week of March. 
> 
> Be forewarned, there are two Luca’s that appear in this story. One is obviously our beloved Luca Guadagnino and the other is Nick’s older brother. Luca Delli Santi will not play too large of a part in this story but I wanted to let everyone know since it is a tad confusing.

Timmy dozes off briefly on the way to Luca’s. He doesn’t remember the moment, the silence of the car and the Italian countryside, the bumps and curves of the road less intense under the wheels of Stefano’s life here. But he does sense when the car stops and he’s blinking and rubbing his eyes because last he remembers they were passing through a field.

“Please take care, Timmy. And send my love to Armie.” Stefano pats his leg and Timmy can’t help leaning over and giving him a hug, resting his head on a broad shoulder that carries the faint hint of his restaurant’s smell, the food dragging him back to his first moments here with Armie so long ago. Had it really been almost four years?

Stefano pats his back warmly and they get out of the car, Timmy’s bag retrieved from the trunk and carried towards the villa. Timmy’s grateful for the chef’s presence. After a day like today, now even in a different time zone in another country, it’s rapidly catching up to him. Crossing Luca’s lawn feels as daunting as running a marathon.

Thankfully the door opens as soon as he steps on the porch and it’s instinct to fall into Luca’s embrace. Luca presses his lips to the top of his head to substitute his usual enthusiastic cheek kissing and squeezes him tight.

All the bothersome noise in his head caused by his anxious thoughts fades away and he almost feels like he could just surrender to sleep right here because Luca radiates safe, safe, safe, perhaps even more than Armie does.

“Timmy. _Mio caro. Vous avez eu une longue journée._ ” Timmy smiles into Luca’s sweater at the familiar way his director says his name.

“ _Povero bebè. Andiamo dentro._ ” Ferdinando’s voice floats through his ears before he’s being folded up from behind and hugged tight between the two men. So much love so freely given is enough to have his eyes watering for only the thousandth time that day.

“I agree, it’s much too cold out here.” Luca kisses his head again and Ferdinando leads them into the house, Luca never quite letting go of him, holding him tight to his side.

There’s a cozy little room with a fireplace in the back of the house and that’s where Luca takes him, sitting him on the couch and sitting close beside him. Timmy’s still vaguely aware of the occasional tear escaping his eyes, just a simmer of his emotions always threatening to boil over.

“If I know you, you haven’t been eating well today.” Luca says carefully.

“I had a sandwich before you called, but I was mostly too nauseous.” Timmy admits as Ferdinando returns to the room, carrying a glass of red wine and a plate with bread, a tiny dish of butter accompanying it, along with sliced pear, orange wedges, and a handful of pistachios, which makes the emotions finally boil over for a moment and he folds in on himself, sobbing.

“I know he was hurting,” Timmy feels terribly about his own feelings, but if there was ever a safe place to admit he was mad at Armie, this is it. Luca knows them better than anyone and has been their guide through some of the most emotionally raw moments of their lives. “I know he was just sad and lonely but I’m so fucking mad at him!” 

Timmy’s shout seems to echo around the small room and Luca’s hand combs through his curls, down his back.

“You’re allowed to be angry, Timmy. Emotions are not rational things, you know. The same way trying to feel nothing instead of hurtful emotions, judging yourself for those emotions does no good. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t angry.” Luca’s gentle permission, no judgment of Timmy’s emotions is enough to open the floodgates to his complaints.

“I’m so fucking angry he did something so...so...gross! And we were so damn close! So fucking close to him divorced and even if it looked like crap that I was with him while he and Elizabeth were still married, at least there was no proof Armie was cheating. But no! No! Of course that’s too much to expect. And now I’m out of the closet courtesy of Armie showing his fucking dick to the whole fucking world. He’s lucky I ever want to see it again!” Timmy’s voice has risen to a shout by the end of his rant and he scrubs fiercely at his face, unfolds, bites his lip hard.

“ _È troppo straordinario per non volerlo._ ” Ferdinando comments lightly as he takes a sip of his own wine. Luca makes a scolding sound but it draws a snort out of Timmy and gives him the boost to at least grab his wine and take a drink. After a few sips, the food begins to look more appetizing. Ferdinando notices his focus change and kneels next to the coffee table, dabbing the soft butter across the bread. “I just made the bread today. Should be easy on your stomach.” 

“ _Grazie_.” Luca is patient beside him, no urgency to continue their conversation, ready whenever Timmy is but equally content to let him sit in his silence and eat a little.

When he’s made his way through the bread and starts sucking the juice out of the orange wedges.

“I know it was wrong, for both of us, to start anything while Armie was still married. But I really tried to keep some of the sexual stuff limited, especially when we were on her turf. I didn’t want it to blow up on him like he was going around putting his dick in his co-star while he had a wife and two little kids, but after last February, when we were in London, he promised me things were going to change. He promised by this time, a whole fucking year later, he hasn’t even said a word about separating from Elizabeth, then he goes and...films this, _this_ masturbatory disaster video.” Ferdinando can’t hold in a low snort and Timmy doesn’t mind because if there isn’t some humor somewhere in this, he’s going to feel even worse than he does now.

“There are many kinds of affairs, if you insist it was that. Armie does have a responsibility to his children, and to their mother, and you know he would honor that no matter what. It’s part of why you love him. But there also is the question of Armie’s marriage and the status of it. They have been separated for some time, yes?” Luca inquires.

Timmy nods, finally chewing down one of the orange wedges he’s been sucking on.

“Armie’s had his own place for about six months now.”

“So the physical separation took some time to disentangle than the emotional and mental separation that was already present. When was the last time he was properly a husband to her? When was the last time she was truly a wife for him?” The answer goes back a lot farther than a year and Timmy swallows hard.

Armie’s marriage is all but dead and has been for a long time. But the joys of being a celebrity and with Elizabeth so remarkably focused on image, no one outside their friends and family have privy to the fact that she and Armie are anything other than happily married. But Elizabeth’s social media facade is so carefully constructed, maybe it was just a matter of time before that fell apart.

“She’s so _fake_. Armie says she used to be so different, and Nick told me the same thing. And I know it tore Armie up not just finally facing his sexuality but mourning the decline and disappearance of the person he married.” Timmy sighs and bites into a pear wedge with more aggression than the act probably deserves. “Still doesn’t mean he had to go on a drunken Twitter bender.”

“I agree he did not channel his emotions in the most constructive way.” Luca agrees and gives Timmy time and space to think. Ferdinando pours himself and Timmy each another glass of wine.

“For the record, I think Luca would skin me alive if I ever graphically described eating him out on social media.” Ferdinando tips his glass towards Timmy and Luca makes a low noise of disapproval but his tone is light and teasing when he speaks.

“ _Certo che no, tesoro! Ti ucciderei per primo. Sai che non credo nella tortura._ ” Timmy wants to laugh but he’s too busy gulping down a few large swallows of wine like it’s water just to keep his breathing steady before he speaks again.

“Nick took his Twitter down so I couldn’t see the actual tweets and I’m definitely not googling either my name or his any time soon.”

“Two wise decisions.” Luca comments while Ferdinando hums and easily tops off Timmy’s wine glass.

“He was quite graphic though. There were about three tweets describing exactly how and why he quote, ‘worships that perfect little peach booty.’ Including how much he likes to eat you out.” 

Timmy groans and buries his head in his hands. Takes a deep breath in.

“I screenshotted them if you want to take a look.”

“ _Non stanotte_!” Luca declares while Timmy lets his breath out in a long whining grunt of frustration. Picks his head up, drains his wine glass, flops back on the couch with a small scowl.

“Is _anything_ sacred to him? The entire world now knows all about my sex life. Like, it was supposed to be so structured, all of it and he fucking outed me. I'm not ashamed of being gay or anything, I've wanted to be out for years now, but that's supposed to be my damn decision.”

Ferdinando makes a noise of agreement while opening a second bottle, Timmy reaches for his glass as soon as Ferdinando fills it. Another piece of buttered bread has appeared from the kitchen and he practically inhales it with the alcohol fueling his hunger now. Luca has subtly taken several pistachios from their shells and Timmy throws them into his mouth with no regard for the emotional memories the nuts hold. Stupid pistachio story Armie told a hundred times.

“ _È questo il metodo di coping più appropriato?_ ” Luca’s voice carries a hint of disapproval but Timmy really doesn’t care right now. He at least knows to stay off fucking social media if he’s being an emotional bitch of a drunk.

“ _Se lo fa mangiare e parlare di come si sente, sì_.” Timmy watches Luca consider his partner’s answer and nods after a time. Ferdinando smiles and Timmy drinks his wine while demolishing the rest of the plate they made for him.

“I’m so sad. For him, for us, the kids, everything. But I’m so, so fucking mad at him. Why do I feel so bad being so angry at him?”

“Because you love him.” Luca answers simply. “The opposite of love is not hate but indifference.”

Timmy can never imagine himself being indifferent about Armie. He’ll always respond to the man somehow. Timmy can’t picture his life without an Armie in it, even if they broke up for some reason, it’s not like the man will just disappear. Their lives are too woven together for their relationship to just fade into nothingness.

“You don’t have to tolerate his behavior though. If he hurts you, you should be able to express that you’re hurt safely and freely without worry about how it’s going to affect him. That’s getting a bit codependent.” Ferdinando advises and Timmy nods, finishing his glass of wine and lying down on his side.

Luca throws a blanket over him.

“ _Mettiti comodo, mio caro. Ma devi andare a letto prossimamente._ ” He warns and Timmy nods, staring off towards the low burning logs in the fireplace.

“I do support you growing into a healthy relationship with the man you love.” Ferdinando says after a while. “But I don’t see why you went after him instead of that pretty brunette friend of his.”

Timmy opens his eyes, squinting in confusion and Ferdinando elaborates.

“ _L'italiano sexy. Grandi occhi marroni e che culo rotondo e bello_.” Timmy snorts but closes his eyes.

“I don’t make a habit of checking out my partner’s best friend’s ass.”

“You should at least consider it because I can tell it’s a thing of beauty.” Timmy hums, pointing a finger to Ferdinando as if he’s figured out the key to fix some of this disaster. His sober brain is in there, telling him exactly why Nick is most definitely not an option, but his drunk brain is now quite curious about Nick’s ass. When he sits up, he extends a hand for his wine glass but finds it gone.

“ _È abbastanza vino! È ora di andare a letto, bambini impertinenti!_ ”

“Awwww. _Ma ci stiamo divertendo_!” Ferdinando coos.

“ _Sarà angosciante se continua così._ ” Luca gives them both a raised eyebrow and Timmy knows it’s not a discussion on if it’s time to turn in for the night. 

Luca ensures the fire will die down properly overnight, while Ferdinando gathers the dishes and Timmy folds the blanket Luca had pulled from the back of the couch. Lights are extinguished and they make their way upstairs.

“ _Buona notte,_ Timmy _. Sogni d'oro_.” Ferdinando leans in, kisses his cheeks and folds him into a hug when they reach the big double doors to the master suite at the top of the stairs. “Or perhaps no dreams, for more rest. Whichever helps you more.” Timmy squeezes him tight.

“ _Buona notte_.” Ferdinando disappears into his and Luca’s room while Luca guides Timmy down the hall to one of his guest rooms. The low light on the bedside table is lit, casting the room in a soft, warm glow. Timmy’s bag is already here, and there’s a pitcher of water and a handful of toiletries on the counter. Luca and Ferdinando always make sure their guests are completely comfortable.

“Don’t hesitate if you need us overnight. We’re here to help you.” Timmy sits on the edge of the bed and Luca leans in, kisses both cheeks, his forehead. “These days are about taking care of Timothée. No other goals, no other worries.”

***

Armie swallows down his coffee as quickly as he can and Evelyn keeps her mean mouth shut as Nick returns to the room and settles back into the couch beside Armie, pushing their shoulders together as he leans in. Armie’s grateful for the weight of his presence so solid beside him.

“I sent you a couple rough drafts.” Evelyn finally says, her voice still haughty with false authority. 

“I saw, I was starting to skim through when Armie joined us. I can’t say they’re quite what we’re looking for.” Nick straightens to give her a look that makes Armie extremely glad Nick’s his ally because if he were on the receiving end, he could swear he could feel the temperature in the room drop.

“Well,” Evelyn begins, her smirk unwavering but Armie can see the twitch in her jaw and the way she tries to be subtle in gulping, leaning back slightly and tucking her chin towards her chest. “I just think it might be better if we focus on rebuilding Armie’s image as a family man for now. I mean, the divorce won’t even be final for months.” She tosses it out easily with a wave of her hand.

Armie suddenly regrets the coffee, his stomach rolling, uneasy. Evelyn wants to keep this circus going. Of course she does. He takes a tiny bite of bagel, chews slowly, has trouble focusing his breathing. Fuck. This is just going to make everything even worse for Timmy and his kids.

He ducks his head and he can feel Nick shift, press his hip closer, reassuring without actually making a motion large enough for Evelyn to notice.

“I’ll have to check my calendar to be sure, but I’m quite sure Armie’s lawyer arranged the next hearing to be March 23rd.” Armie’s head comes up. He didn’t know of anything like that from his lawyer. Nick’s eyes glance to him briefly, his expression softening in a brief acknowledgement and silent promise to tell him when they’re done dealing with Evelyn.

“But, but, they agreed that they would stay together at least until May, so our next hearing…”

“Has had a change of date.” Nick’s voice is controlled but sharp and Evelyn’s stumbling attempts at excuses stop. “The Perfect Hammily for social media? Doesn’t exist. Not anymore. We are going to be very clear exactly when they separated and the divorce will be happening as quickly as it possibly can.”

“But…” Evelyn flounders and Nick takes over speaking again.

“You recall the contract we agreed to yesterday, the nondisclosure clause?”

“Of course. A tad stricter than usual but standard for this industry.”

“So I don’t need to tell you to keep your mouth shut, especially to Elizabeth.” Evelyn flushes an ugly pink-red with anger but knows she’s boxed in and did not expect this from sweet, easygoing Nick.

“ _Obviously_.” Evelyn grinds out and Nick smiles lightly.

“Glad we’re on the same page. Get out.”

Armie’s not sure if it’s his own jaw or Evelyn’s that drops faster. Evelyn makes a few aborted noises of protest before she closes her mouth, scowling at Nick, who replies simply by leaning back to lounge on the couch, crossing his legs, raising an eyebrow.

“The door is down the hallway to your left. That way.” Nick points when Evelyn doesn’t move after a few seconds. She turns red and looks like she wants to yell, but Armie faintly hears the door open, curious at who would be coming over. Nick puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he stands up, squeezing and letting go as a familiar figure walks into the room.

“How goes it, little brother?” Luca’s grin is his lawyer smile. Pleasant smile, carefully relaxed features, but his stare is sharp, focused, and edging towards deadly.

“All things considered, not terrible. We do have a guest who has been asked to leave though.” Armie knows Nick and Luca would never actually hurt anyone, but apparently two six-foot-plus Italian men towering over her, disapproving of her presence is what finally makes her stomp out of the room, a slam of the door following after a few seconds.”

It’s in the second after the door slams that a weight leaves Armie’s chest and he feels like he can breathe again. Nick’s immediately back by his side and Armie scoots closer to let Luca squeeze in on the other side. Luca pats his leg firmly, giving him a smile that’s much more like the usual Luca, smart, serious but warm, while Nick curls against his side and Armie leans to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re fucking amazing.” Armie declares. He’d wanted to get rid of Evelyn more times than he can count over the past several years and Nick had made it happen in less than half an hour.

“I’m just--”

“Just nothing.” Armie cuts him off, practically drags Nick into his lap with the fierceness of his hug. “You’re incredible. Brilliant. Completely fucking magnificent.” Nick squirms under the praise and Luca laughs.

“I guess he’s tolerable when he’s not being a brat.” Luca leans over, ruffles Nick’s carefully styled hair aggressively, Armie laughing and letting go of Nick so he can properly punch his brother for messing up his hair.

“Dick.”

“Wanker.” Luca throws out from his time at college in the UK and they’re all laughing. The Delli Santi brothers had always felt more like his family than Vik ever has. Not that Armie dislikes Vik. They get along, care about each other, but he’s never been close the way he is with Luca and especially Nick.

Their laughter passes and Armie speaks.

“So, what’s this about my lawyer? Joseph said--”

“Joseph has been dismissed. Long NDA and a severance fee. You have better lawyers now.” Nick explains.

“Better? But Joseph wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Who recommended Joseph to you?” Nick gives him a raised brow and Armie flushes, feeling dumb now as he explains.

“Evelyn and Elizabeth said he was good at this kind of divorce, discreet and all.”

“Mhm. And you’ve gotten precisely how far with any progress since September?”

The ugly truth of it is that things have gone precisely fucking nowhere and they both knew it.

“How can we afford this?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But, I can’t let you guys just pay, in any sense of the word, for my mistakes.”

“It’s not Delli Santi money, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Luca supplies.

“We have a wealthy sponsor.” Nick’s tone says that question is permanently closed now.

“Where did these better lawyers come from? Can we trust them?” 

“Absolutely.” Luca answers. “I called up a few friends who owed me favors, and some of them had to call up their friends, but we’ve got three of the best fucking lawyers in California on the case now.” 

“I will warn you,” Nick begins. “If things get ugly, they get ugly. But they don’t give a fuck about discreet. They’re here for you and what’s best for you and Harper and Ford.”

Briefly, Armie feels his skin start to crawl at the idea of the divorce being turned into the latest celebrity court drama, especially with the kids. But, it’s part of the price of being famous, of being an actor, and maybe consequences for not doing this sooner. He can put up with a couple months of misery to get a better outcome for his kids, at this point even a chance to see them more often would be a win.

“I don’t care anymore.” Armie’s surprised by the confidence in his voice. “Besides, I blew up any chance of discretion two nights ago. If this is what it takes, this is what it takes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Play with me on tumblr: findmecallingyou


End file.
